


what little girls are made of

by Lise



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (i'm so bad at plot you guys), Bechdel Test Pass, Conversations, Female Friendship, Female-Centric, Galentine's Day Exchange, Gen, Minor Agent Carter Spoilers (if you squint), Natasha Romanoff is Not Very Good At Boundaries, POV Female Character, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Slash, Sharon Carter is a Total Badass, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone's heard of the Black Widow. Not everyone has the Black Widow dropping into their apartment unannounced to leave her phone number on the table. </p>
<p>Or: Sharon Carter is pretty sure Natasha is trying to make friends with her. <i>Pretty</i> sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what little girls are made of

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pollinia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollinia/gifts).



> According to Miranda Lambert, what little girls are made of is gunpowder and lead, which seems pretty appropriate for these two.
> 
> I was delighted to get the chance to write about some MCU ladies for this exchange! Natasha is my favorite, so that was a no brainer - but then I thought about it and what's better than one spy? It's two spies. And I've been meaning to write about Natasha and Sharon for a while, and...well. 
> 
> The Agent Carter spoilers mentioned in the tags are very minimal and if you've watched through 1x05 you're easily fine - and if you haven't watched that far, you're probably still fine. It's very background and probably not even worth mentioning, but I figured I would just in case. Thanks to my beta for a short notice editing job, and to the moderators for this exchange for setting it up. 
> 
> Happy Galentine's Day!

It was over twenty four hours after SHIELD came crashing down (in the form of three burning helicarriers in the Potomac; one thing you could say for Steve Rogers was that he didn’t do anything by halves) that Sharon finally managed to wade home. There were five missed calls on her cell (its screen now cracked), all from her mother. She called back, staying on the line just long enough to offer some reassurance that she was still alive _(“The news said one of those planes came down on Theodore Roosevelt Island! Isn’t that right by your office?”)_ and managed to beg off that she was tired and needed to make dinner.

Sharon trudged up to her apartment building and let herself inside, stumbled up the stairs and unlocked her door, seriously considering just dropping into bed and sleeping for the next twelve hours.

The Black Widow was sitting at her table. Sharon shut the door behind her hard enough to bang just a little.

“Well, hi,” she said.

Sharon didn’t know Natasha Romanoff well – she got the impression not many people did – but it would be hard to work at SHIELD and not at least know _of_ her. She was one of the legendary agents, like Clint Barton or Melinda May, that people told stories about around the water cooler. They might have exchanged greetings once or twice, but not much more than that.

Sharon had never been much of one for being star struck. She wasn’t going to start now.

Romanoff stretched her legs out. “Hey,” she said, and offered no further explanation.

Sharon crossed the room and dropped her keys on the table. “My door was still locked,” she said.

“I locked it after me,” the Black Widow said with a little smile. “I didn’t want you to freak out.”

Sharon tapped one hand against her leg, trying to decide how to deal with this. “I was going to take a shower and go to sleep. It’s been kind of a long day.”

“Respectable.” Romanoff stood up. “I heard you made a good show of yourself today.”

Sharon didn’t bother to ask how she knew. She did think to wonder where Romanoff had been in the whole mess – she’d caught a glimpse of her on the news during the fracas downtown, though it occurred to her that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t Hydra. “Someone had to.”

“Hmm-mm.” Romanoff tapped her toes on the floor and glanced toward the windows. “Agent Sharon Carter, right?”

“Former Agent,” Sharon said dryly. “At least, I’m fairly sure I’ve tendered my resignation.”

Romanoff laughed through her nose. “I think we all have.” She drummed her fingers on the table, one at a time. “I’ll let you take your bath.” She headed for the door.

“Wait,” Sharon said, narrowing her eyes. “Why did you come here in the first place?”

Romanoff paused. “I was curious,” she said, after a moment. “I knew you were assigned to Rogers Watch, and I glanced at your file then. You’re good at what you do.” Sharon didn’t let her eyebrows rise and kept herself from smiling, even if a little girl part of her wanted to squeal _the Black Widow just told me I’m good at my job._ She _was_ good at her job. Maybe not a legend (not yet), but still damned good. “Then today I hear that you started a gunfight with Rumlow and delayed the launch. I thought someone should thank you personally for giving us that time.” Romanoff’s eyes were sharp and perceptive. Sharon met them levelly.

“Like I said,” she said. “Just doing what needed doing.”

“Hm.” Romanoff shrugged. “Well. Glad you did it.” She turned her back again. “Sorry about your job, Agent.”

“Sorry about yours, Widow,” Sharon said.

“Such is life.” Romanoff sauntered out of her apartment. Sharon frowned after her for a moment, then shed her coat and hung it on the back of a chair. She was about to make a beeline for the bathroom when she noticed a sticky note on the table, a phone number written on it in neat, precise handwriting with the initials _NR_ underneath.

“Huh,” she said.

* * *

The CIA hired her as close to straight out of interview as the CIA hired anyone. Sharon missed her work for SHIELD within the month, but it was better than nothing and it kept her in Washington. Her coworkers were all right, and she wasn’t the only ex-SHIELD in the agency – Aaron from tech, the guy who’d resisted Rumlow on the day of the launch, ran into her at lunch, though he seemed more uncomfortable than anything.

Still, it wasn’t bad. She practiced her shooting in the range so next time she wouldn’t miss.

Jen found her down there loading a new clip and shouted that she had a visitor.

“Who?” Sharon yelled back, but Jen just made a face and shrugged.

Sharon took the elevator up, going through her list of acquaintances, but her mother was in Bermuda and no one else seemed likely to just drop in on her work without any notice. Maybe her sister, but Sharon was pretty sure she was still on the West Coast and not wandering around Washington.

She went all the way out to the visitor’s lobby and paused, glancing around at the tourists and delivery people trying to spot someone she recognized.

“You’ve done pretty well for yourself,” said a familiar voice. Sharon turned sharply around. Natasha Romanoff had cut her hair shorter since Sharon had last seen her, and it curled around her jaw. The shade was slightly darker, but no less red. Sharon crossed her arms.

“Checking in on me?” She asked, keeping her voice level. She wasn’t sure what she thought of the fact that she’d been tracked here so easily, but then again this _was_ the Black Widow, and she didn’t feel threatened yet.

“Mm. Something like that.” Romanoff pursed her lips. “Are you available to go out for coffee? I’m trying to avoid more security cameras than necessary.”

“So you walked into the lobby of the CIA?” Sharon said. Romanoff’s smile was crooked and wry.

“Only for a good cause, Agent Carter.”

Sharon raised her eyebrows. “I’m a good cause?”

“Sure are.” Romanoff looked relaxed, but looking more closely Sharon could see the way her eyes flicked around, watching exits and noticing strangers that strayed close to them. The government might not officially have declared Black Widow a wanted woman, but Sharon knew she was a ‘person of interest’ in more than one open case.

“All right,” she said, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “I know a place five minutes from here. Let’s go.”

* * *

Romanoff ordered a mocha with an extra pump of chocolate. Sharon gave her the seat with her back to the wall out of a sense of politeness, and by the quick, considering look Romanoff gave her the gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

“You know Maria Hill is working for Stark Industries now,” Romanoff said, leaning back in her chair. Sharon nodded. “Did you think about going into private industry?”

“Thought about it,” Sharon said. “Decided against it. I grew up knowing I wanted to work for the government.”

“That didn’t change when you found out the government had been infiltrated by a Nazi splinter group?” Romanoff sounded genuinely curious. Sharon shrugged, and Romanoff nodded. “Fair enough. If SHIELD reforms, do you think you’ll go back?”

“Probably,” Sharon said, after a pause, and then leaned forward. “Is SHIELD reforming?”

“Nope,” Romanoff said, but a little too glibly. Sharon wondered if she was being felt out.

“If it is…”

“Your aunt is Peggy Carter, is that right?” Romanoff interrupted. Her focus might have been unnerving when Sharon was a junior recruit. She wasn’t about to let it be unnerving now, though the jump did surprise her. It wasn’t a secret, exactly, but she didn’t talk about her aunt much. No point, since the majority of people seemed to prefer to forget that Peggy had as good as built SHIELD.

“That’s right,” she said slowly.

“You know,” Romanoff said slowly, “I hadn’t heard that name – except for the bullshit about _Captain America’s girlfriend_ – until recently. Interesting woman. I’ve been doing some reading,” she added, as if Sharon had asked.

“Is that what you’ve been doing,” Sharon said, maybe a little too blandly. Romanoff’s smile shifted and turned a little sharp.

“Well, _someone_ threw all my secrets on the internet. I’ve had to come up with something to stay busy while keeping my head down.” It was an opening and Sharon knew it. She could ask _how much of what they’re saying is true_ or _I heard it was you who leaked everything._ She kept her mouth shut, and after a moment Romanoff sat back and sighed. “Why didn’t I ever talk to you, Agent Carter?”  

“You could just call me Sharon,” Sharon said. “You _did_ break into my apartment.”

“Old habits,” Romanoff said, and took a sip of her mocha.

Sharon leaned forward and put her elbows and hands both flat on the table. “All right. Can you come out and tell me what all this is about? I love spy games but I don’t think I want to play this one.”

Romanoff’s eyebrows shot up, but she smiled a little. “You’re an interesting person. I like interesting people.” Her eyes strayed past Sharon toward the door, then refocused. “I was in town and Maria told me that you’d gone over to the CIA.”

“You don’t know me,” Sharon said. “Why take the risk?”

Romanoff set down her mug. “Maybe I’d like to.”

Sharon blinked, surprised. She picked up her coffee and set it down, leaned back in her chair. “You left me your phone number,” she said.

“You didn’t call.” Romanoff – Natasha, maybe – looked a touch uncomfortable. Sharon narrowed her eyes.

“Is that how you usually make friends?” she asked. Natasha cocked her head to the side like she was thinking.

“I made one of them by pretending to be someone else so she’d hire me,” she said. “That’s different.” It sounded like a joke. Sharon suspected it was also serious. “Then there’s Maria – I was a hundred-ten pounds of pissed off at the world when I met her. The other ones…one I met through an alien invasion and one was trying to kill me. Then there’s Wilson – I did knock on his door first.” Sharon stared at her. Romanoff smiled, a little – still sharp but maybe a little brittle. “I don’t really _do_ usual, Agent Carter.”

“Yeah,” Sharon said dryly. “So it would seem.”

Something beeped quietly and Romanoff pulled an odd looking device out of her pocket and glanced at it. “I need to go,” she said, sounding apologetic, and chugged the rest of her mocha in two gulps. “Something’s come up.”

Sharon could almost feel her spy senses tingling. “Something?”

Romanoff glanced at her and then grinned. “Ooh. CIA boring you?” Sharon didn’t answer, but Romanoff stood up. “Sorry. I’d bring you along, but this is personal.”

“Personal,” Sharon echoed. Natasha’s smile turned a little dangerous in a way that made Sharon feel distinctly left out.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Maybe next time I’ll tell you the story.”

“Next time,” Sharon said, even as Romanoff headed for the back exit, “call first!”

Romanoff raised a hand and waved in what might have been acknowledgment. Sharon wasn’t sure it was agreement.

* * *

Sharon made the drive out to visit her Aunt Peggy once a week if she could swing it. When she’d come the first time after what was being called the Potomac Incident and told her that Steve had brought down SHIELD from the inside, that it had been a nest for HYDRA since the end of the war, Peggy did not seem particularly surprised.

When Sharon went to see Peggy the week Romanoff (Natasha?) talked to her in D.C., it was with her head full of wondering just what personal business the Black Widow was pursuing. Peggy noticed her distraction, as always. Even if she had trouble keeping track of things, in some ways her aunt’s mind was as sharp as ever.

What she wasn’t expecting, when she brought the Black Widow up to Peggy, was for her aunt to nod and say, “oh, yes, she was here.”

Sharon sat up straight. “ _What?_ ”

“She seemed like a nice young lady,” Peggy said, sounding thoughtful. “She didn’t call herself a Black Widow, or say straight out that she was a spy, of course.” Peggy’s eyes clouded for a moment, tracking back through a memory, and Sharon waited for her to come out. “I wonder…”

“Auntie,” Sharon said, leaning forward. “What did you talk about?”

Peggy’s slightly filmy eyes still focused sharply on her. “You learned that interrogation tone from me, Sharon. Don’t get protective. I can still mind myself.” Which wasn’t exactly what Sharon had meant to imply, but she realized when Peggy said it that the thought had been at the back of her mind. Romanoff might be on the side of the angels but she wasn’t exactly safe company. “She asked me about you, actually.”

“About me?” Sharon wanted to ask Peggy when this had been, but her aunt’s sense of time wasn’t always the best anymore. “What about me?”

“Don’t worry, Sharon,” Peggy said. “I didn’t tell her any of your secrets. I don’t think that’s what she was looking for, anyways.”

Sharon opened her mouth to ask what Peggy thought Romanoff _was_ looking for, but the nurse was coming in to shoo her out, saying that her aunt had some appointment or another, and she had to switch to rushed goodbyes instead.

Stalled at a light on the way home, Sharon found herself thumbing her phone and frowning. When she got back to her apartment, she had to fish through her junk drawer to find the sticky note with Romanoff’s number written on it, and didn’t let herself think before calling.

“Why did you visit my aunt?” She asked, as soon as the connection clicked.

There was a momentary silence, and Sharon thought for a second she’d dialed the wrong number. “Oh! Oh, that was a couple weeks ago.” Romanoff sounded surprised. “Also, your aunt _is_ Margaret Carter. There are lots of reasons someone might want to visit her.”

Sharon closed her eyes and counted to five. “You asked her about me,” she said, trying to keep her voice level.

“I did – shut up, I’m on the phone! – no, not you.” Romanoff sighed. “Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was just curious?” There was that tone in Romanoff’s voice again, like it was a joke but not exactly. “Besides, I wasn’t _just_ talking to her about you. I was asking about SHIELD. About her work.” There was a pause, and then, “about…certain things that might be relevant to projects of mine. You just happened to come up.”

“Projects of yours,” Sharon said, trying to keep tone out of her voice. “Does that have anything to do with why you ran out of our coffee date the other day?”

“—is that what we’re calling it?” Romanoff didn’t sound like she was teasing, and Sharon only realized belatedly how that might have sounded. “No, never mind – I think it’s better you don’t know very much about what I’m doing.”

Sharon could feel that itch at the back of her mind, the one that had always driven her in espionage, when she knew something was _right there_ just out of her reach. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea. Or like something I want my aunt involved in.”

“She’s not involved,” Romanoff said firmly. “It was more of a…history lesson. That’s all.”

“And I just happened to come up.”

“More or less,” Romanoff said, after a brief pause. “I was there. I figured I might as well get a character reference from someone who knows you.”

“A character reference,” Sharon echoed. She could almost hear Romanoff’s smile in her voice.

“Trust no one, Agent Carter.”

“Is that an X-Files reference?” Sharon asked, nearly incredulous.

“You recognized it,” Romanoff said, and hung up. Sharon frowned at her phone, wondering if Romanoff just liked to get the last word or honestly didn’t know how to end a conversation.

* * *

A headline in mid-October blared the downfall of a prominent US Senator in a corruption scandal, and Sharon’s brain started itching again.

It wasn’t even a week later that she got a knock on her door while she was making Spaghetti-O’s out of the can. Figuring it was Mrs. Wolf from down the hall asking for some eggs (again), she walked over and opened the door while still half thinking about the chicken she’d meant to defrost.

Natasha Romanoff was leaning on her door, one of her eyes blackened. Her hair was messed up on one side like someone had grabbed a handful and tried to pull it out. “Hey,” she said. “I remembered to knock this time.”

Sharon glanced both ways down the hallway and pulled Romanoff inside, shutting the door. She winced when Sharon grabbed her arm. “Did anyone follow you?” Sharon asked.

Romanoff looked insulted. “No. I’m not an _amateur._ ”

Sharon nodded but paced over to the window to check outside, just in case. “No, I guess you’re not.”

“Do you have an ice pack? My entire face hurts.”

Sharon turned around and examined Romanoff, noting the blood on split knuckles and the way she was favoring one leg. “Sit down,” she said. “I have some frozen peas.”

“Mmm. Time honored classic.” Romanoff sat, her head dropping back so she was staring at the ceiling. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Sharon went to the freezer and pulled out the bag of peas, wrapping them in a towel and returning to Romanoff. “I’d say I didn’t mind, but that’s not quite true. Does this have anything to do with Senator Mitchell?”

Romanoff pressed the bag of peas to her black eye and looked at Sharon out of the other. “Maybe,” she said after a moment. “Though not exactly. I probably shouldn’t answer too many questions.”

“Because you don’t want me to get involved,” Sharon said, crossing her arms. Romanoff sighed.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And that’s why you decided to come to _my_ apartment after your operation went sideways?”

Romanoff considered. “You were close,” she said. “And Wilson and Rogers are out of town.”

Sharon glanced toward the kitchen and decided that dinner could wait. She sat down on the chair across from Romanoff and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “When are you going to get over yourself and ask me for help?”

Romanoff – Natasha, Sharon decided – blinked. “I’m not asking-”

“No,” Sharon agreed, interrupting. “You’re just circling around it. The first couple times I thought maybe you were courting me on behalf of whatever SHIELD’s morphed into. Feeling me out to see if I’d be interested. But you dropped a couple hints when we met for coffee – enough to get my attention. And you talked to my aunt – for a character reference, you said. Either you’re getting sloppy or you were waiting for me to take the bait.” Natasha looked faintly surprised. Sharon leaned back and tried not to feel insulted. “I’m not an amateur either.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Natasha said after a moment. “You’re right. I thought about it. But I decided against it. Like I told you at coffee – this is personal.” She pulled the peas away from her eye. “And it goes deeper than I realized. I’m not going to drag you into the shit.”

“Yes,” Sharon said firmly. “You are.”

Romanoff frowned. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll start my own investigation,” she said. “I’m bored to tears, Agent Romanoff. And you’re onto something big.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to be a hero, Agent Carter?”

“No,” said Sharon. “What we do – it’s not about heroism.”

Natasha looked at her for a long time, lips pursed slightly. “This is going to get ugly,” she said. “I’m telling you now. I am very much not Steve Rogers.”

“Neither am I,” Sharon said. Natasha nodded, slowly, and set the bundle of peas and towel down on the coffee table.

“All right, Agent Carter. We can work together.”

“Sharon,” Sharon said. “I’m only Agent in the field.”

Natasha cocked her head to the side. “That works for me,” she said. “All right. Sharon.” She leaned forward. “You’re going to need a little history.”

Sharon frowned. “You mentioned that before – _history._ That’s what you were asking Aunt Peggy about. History of what?”

“Me, more or less,” Natasha said, and smiled a little strangely. “Let me tell you about the Red Room.”


End file.
